


And then is heard no more

by Entrophy_Writes



Category: Library of Ruina (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Courage to be brave? Where?, How Do I Tag, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entrophy_Writes/pseuds/Entrophy_Writes
Summary: A self-reflection piece on Philip.
Kudos: 9





	And then is heard no more

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I just needed to write this.

A tea set is set onto a table.

It stares at it for an uncomfortable amount of time. Wings hitched up high as it tried to seat itself awkwardly onto a chair. It waits, but nothing will come.

Even if the cups and seats are empty, something stirs in its chest.

Something used to be here.

Steam would come from hot tea and compliments would be shared. Chairs would be filled, groans would echo from his right and chuckles would come from the left. Something was here but it’s not.

The metal table begins to melt underneath his clasped hands.

Something used to be here.

Cups filled with tea, a bright yellow in the center ending with a bitter taste. Staining his mustache and occasionally spilling all over her jacket.

Molten liquid oozes out from the hole in its face, its body shakes, why does it feel this way.

Something used to be here.

The guilt runs ragged through its veins.

( I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m a coward. A pathetic, selfish coward who couldn’t help but run away at every turn. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry )

It doesn’t need this.

No more speaking, No more hearing, no more seeing. 

So why is it not here anymore?!

Why can’t he see, why can’t he hear, why can’t he speak? Just one more time, just one more time…

_ “ Stop making excuses for yourself,”  _ She says. It’s a calming voice in all of the wrong ways, it chastises him-no. More than that, it mocks him. It’s utterly devoid of the empathy of his situation, on why he runs. On why he escapes at every turn of the way.

_ “ Stop making delusions of us,”  _ He says. It’s old and wise and all of the things it’s not. He’s kind, he’s selfless, he’s strong. Who wouldn’t want to be with him? 

Something used to be here, but does it really matter now?

The sunsets and the night falls. Everything crumbles and crashes to the floor. It’s inevitable, but why can’t it delay it? Deny the stronger evil the books that they had wanted to receive? Was it a sin to live? Was it a sin for something so pathetic and sinful to want to live? 

No matter. There will be no more of that.

No more seeing, no more hearing, no more speaking. Build the assumption, bottle this courage, disregard the intentions.

A tea set shatters onto the floor. Glass pieces scattered across the floor, stopped by the molten pieces of metal dripping from the table it once stood on.

It steps on a shard, but it doesn’t feel it.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> https://twitter.com/G_rirung_/status/1332341837198106625  
> You know, I really wasn't planning on crying today or writing any Philip pieces. But ok, this art made me fucking cry like a baby for three minutes as I was writing this-


End file.
